"I know you swapped the ritual sigils because you wanted first standing. Fine—I'll give you the title. You can have the rite championship." His voice cracked, raw and desperate. "But please, can you at least give me back the tribute prize?" He bowed his head lower. "If you want me to ghost-scribe for you in the future, just ask. You don't have to steal my work."
Selene rushed forward, cradling him protectively against her chest. "A wolf's knees are sacred to the pack! You're the victim here—why should you kneel to him?!"
If I agreed with anything Darian said, I'd be confessing on the spot.
I kept my voice level, letting no growl slip through. "As far as I know, Academy fees are twelve thousand in tribute per cycle. You could sell any single item you're wearing and cover that several times over." I paused, letting my gaze sweep meaningfully over his expensive attire. "And for the record—I have zero interest in winning a traditional Moon-ink rite. Why would I swap anyone's work?"
Darian's expression flickered, freezing for just a moment. His scent spiked with something sharp—fear, perhaps, or calculation. Then he turned to Selene, wounded and helpless as a kicked pup.
"These things aren't mine. They're gifts—from wolves who care about me. They have sentimental value." His voice rose with desperate conviction. "I could starve through three winters before I'd ever sell someone's heartfelt gesture for tribute." He pressed a hand to his chest. "All I want is to earn my way through my craft. Through my own two claws."
"I'm not trying to steal the rite championship from you. I'm begging you—just give me back the tribute prize."
His voice was raw, shredded, barely a rasp.
Selene's eyes shimmered with emotion, her hand stroking his hair. "You sweet, foolish pup..."
The other rite contestants closed in around us, accusations flying like snapping jaws:
"Darian is literally kneeling and begging you. What more do you want?"
"I can't stand these privileged Alpha parasites—thinking bloodline means they can steal other wolves' work."
"Making him return the tribute prize isn't enough. His rite entry needs to be voided entirely!"
The Pack-Echo omens erupted in righteous fury across every scrying mirror:
【Can this piece of trash just DROP DEAD?! He's forcing our precious male lead to KNEEL. I'm howling in grief, our poor baby male lead!】